I was actually hoping to come up with a cleverer title, but there is no synonym for comfort that begins with the letter “T”. Or for bliss, security, or happiness.
In yesterday’s post, I threatened to ramble on about my love of tea and someone made the possibly big mistake of encouraging it.
I’ve been flexing my haiku muscles lately, so here goes:
Tea is ambrosia
Soul-warming and heart-hugging
My mugs are too small
I have a confession to make that might make you want to take away my writer card: I don’t like caffeine. I can’t handle it. One ounce too much and my heart is racing through my chest and I’m as jittery as if I’m in a full-blown anxiety attack, without all the head spinning.
For me, tea has nothing to do with the morning boost. Instead, at 9:30 every morning, I appreciate the joy of wrapping my usually glacial fingers around a warm mug and having my insides warmed up, too. And nothing usually works better than tea.
It’s a psychological thing, I think. Maybe from watching/reading too much British fiction? Bad day? Start a brew. Family tragedy? Better get the teapot out. World ending? Turn on the kettle. And really, I don’t think there could be better advice.
Everyone needs something to get them through the rough patches, whether it’s the hard part of the work day (the stretch where five minutes feels like two hours, where the work is all dumped on your desk, and your boss just laughs as if it’s all a big joke), getting ready for a stressful meeting, dealing with people you’d rather watch step on LEGO pieces…
Let’s face it: it’s a big, scary world out there, and adulting is hard. We have to make phone calls, for goodness’ sake. Society frowns on security blankets after a certain age, but no one suspects a cup of tea.
So to everyone sitting in the coffee shops reading this over a cuppa, I raise my mug to you. We’ve got this.